


Just The Way You Are

by Naz



Series: Jonathan Goes To Hell [1]
Category: Welcome to Hell - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 04:54:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2297303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naz/pseuds/Naz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonathan decides it's time to kill himself. Sock has some concerns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just The Way You Are

The cold night wind whipped at Jonathan's body. He shivered despite his thick grey hoodie and looked down at the ravine, far below the empty bridge he clung to.

 

It wasn't Sock that had led him to decide to kill himself. At least, not in the way Sock had been attempting. The demon's pestering had, if anything, led to him hanging on to life just a little bit longer. Jonathan enjoyed having somebody to talk to. Somebody who gave a damn. His parents only cared enough to keep up appearances and not get arrested for neglect and the people he hesitantly called his friends frequently forget he existed.

 

Meanwhile, Sock was constantly around him, even when he was done “work” for the day, genuinely wanting to spend time and know everything about him. Sock cared like nobody else ever did. When a Jock made a snide remark about the blond teen, Sock would spend a good chunk of the day getting his ghostly retribution. When Valhalla Soundbox had come to town and Jonathan couldn't afford tickets, Sock helped him sneak in the back. When Jonathan had been sick, Sock had tried to make him soup (instead accidentally possessing the can and causing it to explode all over the kitchen. It's the thought that counts.)

 

Jonathan braced himself, shutting his eyes so the sharp rocks below didn't give him second thoughts. He had made up his mind long ago. If he didn't do it, Sock would be fired and he would never see him again. If he did, he would spend eternity in hell hanging out with his best friend. It seemed like no contest. He readied himself for the jump.

 

“WAIT!” Sock materialized in front of Jonathan. Jonathan opened his eyes and fixed the demon with a tired glare. This wasn't exactly easy.

 

“What the fuck dude?” Every second he wasted was a chance to chicken out. Sock lifted his shirt. Seriously, what the _fuck_?

 

“Look!” Sock indicated his faintly glowing stab wound. As always, Jonathan resisted the urge to reach out and touch it. “I just remembered everyone keeps the injuries they die of! If you jump you'll be squashed forever!” Sock looked horrified.

 

Jonathan sighed and stepped backwards. He wasn't vain by any means, but he didn't like the idea of looking “squashed” for all of eternity. He carefully climbed back over the barrier that separated the path on the bridge from painful rocky death below.

 

“I didn't bring a return bus pass. We're walking.” Jonathan trudged home with his ever chattering demon companion floating beside him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jonathan scrolled through the search engine results for “how to tie a noose.” He was halfway between disgusted and grateful this kind of thing could be found on the internet. He lay his rope flat and began to follow the instructions.

 

“Morning!” Sock drifted through the floor at precisely 9:00. “You won't believe the night I had! Some new guy totally called Prince Stolas an owl, which doesn't make any sense because his boss is Marquis Andras, and the prince got so mad he sent all 26 of his legions over to teach him a lesson! Then Mr. Andras sent some of his legions over too and there was a huge battle! Of course, the new guy lives in the apartment across from mine so the whole night there was stomping and yelling and cries of ultimate anguish! So whatcha doin?” Sock peeked over Jonathan's shoulder.

 

“Half the time your stories make hell sound like a normal place where you have a normal job and a normal life and the other half...I don't even know.” Jonathan looked up at Sock, who was staring at the still unfinished noose in horror.

 

“I've seen the people who've hung themselves walking around sometimes...” Sock fiddled with his scarf nervously. “Their faces are...without oxygen they kind of...Jonathan I really really like your face please don't hang yourself!!” Sock's face turned bright red as he stared pleadingly at Jonathan.

 

A blush crept onto Jonathan's own face as he discarded his rope and put his head in his hands.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Water gushed from the faucet, filling the bath as Jonathan busied himself finding some sort of extension cord so that the toaster would reach the tub. Would a power bar plugged into a power bar work? He would just have to try. Jonathan returned to the bathroom to find Sock knocking every bottle of liquid that could possibly produce bubbles into the water.

 

“I thought I told you my bathroom was off limits.” Jonathan halfheartedly scolded Sock. He couldn't really bring himself to be upset when the demon was wearing a bubble beard and making pirate noises.

 

“Arr!” Sock replied happily before noting the toaster and power bars in Jonathan's arms. Sock's face fell into a frown and the foam making up his soapy facial hair slid back into the tub.

 

“What's wrong?” Jonathan dumped his armful of electronics onto the bathroom counter.

 

“You're not going to...umm... do the Fear and Loathing thing are you?” Sock asked.

 

“ _What?_ ” Jonathan asked in disbelief.

 

“You know, with the white rabbit song and Johnny Depp and-”

 

“I know what Fear and Loathing is. I'm just kind of surprised you do. I thought you'd be the type to stick to slasher flicks.”

 

“I like lots of movies.” Sock shrugged. “Hey, uh, did you know people who die of electrocution usually look like pretty bad burn victims?”

 

Jonathan gave Sock a blank look.

 

“I-I meant what I said before.” Sock stammered. “I like the way you are and umm...I want you to be happy too though...but...” Sock turned bright red and didn't finish his thought, instead phasing through the wall to hide. Jonathan thought of spending the rest of forever covered in horrific burns and began to drain the tub.

 

* * *

 

 

An impressive array of pills were scattered in front of Jonathan on his desk. Big ones, small ones, pills of every colour, shape, and size. He began sorting them by how lethal he thought they could be, kind of regretting dumping them all out of their bottles. Was that little one there Valium or Tylenol? The teen frowned and squinted at the illegible text etched onto it.

 

“Do you have a headache?” Sock asked worriedly, appearing out of nowhere and startling Jonathan into dropping the pills in his hands.

 

“No Sock, I don't have a headache.” Jonathan turned to face the demon slowly. “I am trying to kill myself. I have been trying to kill myself for days. You have been telling me to kill myself for weeks now.” The clearly frustrated Jonathan ground out.

 

“Oh. Right.” Sock grinned apologetically. “Sorry.”

 

“S'fine.” Jonathan returned Sock's grin with a shaky smile of his own. “Anything I should know about death by overdose?” Sock examined the dark circles under the blond's eyes, feeling an intense fondness for his exhausted counterpart. He swallowed nervously and frowned as he considered the question.

 

“Well...I don't know if you should do it...” Sock fidgeted under Jonathan's gaze. “Sorry! A lot of them can't really speak. They kind of get stuck with puke in their mouths for the rest of their afterlives and I really like talking to you! More than anything in the world...” Sock played with the hem of his skirt to avoid looking up at the human's undoubtedly annoyed face.

 

“Unbelievable.” Jonathan flicked a small white pill at the wall.

 

* * *

 

 

 “Jonathan?” Sock floated into the teen's empty room. He noted the teen's wallet and keys still on his dresser and stuck his head through the floor to peek into the kitchen. “Jonathan?” He called out again. There was no answer. The house seemed empty.

 

“Jonathan? Are you in there?” Sock asked the closed bathroom door. Silence. Sock gingerly stuck his head through the door and gasped. “Jonathan!”

 

On the floor, in a pool of crimson blood, lay Jonathan. A large knife protruded from his middle. Sock knelt next to the body. Other than the blood and the knife, Jonathan just looked like he was getting some much needed sleep. Maybe a little paler than usual, but still peaceful. Sock brushed the hair from Jonathan's body's face, feeling his stomach do a somersault, and then willed himself back to hell.

 

“Nice work, Sowachowski!” Mephistopheles greeted him with cheer. “Always knew ya had it in ya!” There, seated in the chair Sock had found himself in when he died not all that long ago, was Jonathan.

 

“Jonathan!” Sock cried out happily. An incredibly overwhelmed looking Jonathan gave him a wave.

 

“Hey Sock.” His voice shook a little bit. “Just hearing all about my new job.”

 

“Actually, that should be everything.” Mephistopheles filed the papers on his desk back into their proper cabinet. “I expect to see you in the Hall of Crippling Phobias at 9:00 AM sharp tomorra' morning, Combs.” The tall man ushered the two of them out of his office. “See me in the morning for your next assignment, Sock.” And with that, he shut the door.

 

“You did it...” Sock looked up at Jonathan with a small smile. Jonathan smiled back.

 

“Yeah.” Jonathan glanced around furtively before lifting up his hoodie and shirt to reveal his own “spooky hole,” perfectly matching Sock's own. Sock's smile grew as he took Jonathan by the arm and led him to their apartment.  

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry. That was kind of a fucked up thing to write.  
> Might continue with some adventures in hell.


End file.
